Chapter Twelve
Claire
I forced myself to blink, but my eyes kept opening wider. Underneath Steele's crisp white dress shirt was a hard-sculpted body. I had felt his strength in little movements - helping me up from my chair, spinning me across the dance floor - but I had never imagined he had the body of a focused athlete.
Then I took in the tattoos. They spanned his chiseled chest and rippled across his wide biceps. A few trailed in a ribbon down his flat stomach and around his waist, like a road receding into the distance. All along that stretch were skulls and ravens, motor chains and smoking exhaust. Steele's body was more than enough for a third pass after a double take.
The surprises revealed by his naked torso disappeared when his arm reached out and wrapped around my waist. I pressed a hand to his chest, felt his surging heartbeat, and all I could think about was getting closer.
I sank over his lap, my knees slipping to the outside of his taut thighs. My shirt was gone, soon every scrap of clothing was gone, and I settled farther onto his lap. My breasts pressed against his bare chest and my tingling nipples didn't know the difference between ink and unmarked skin.
Steele tossed away my clothes and then splayed his wide hands across my back. He rubbed them down so slowly, so firmly, that I arched my back into the shape of his touch. The stretch opened up my body to his eager lips and I shivered with delight as a trail of hot kisses drifted down my neck.
One hand gripped my hips and set a rocking rhythm that drove out all other thoughts. Then his other hand slipped up to cup my breast, tipping it so his hungry lips could grasp my nipple in an electric kiss. He nibbled and sent a current of lust straight through me. I didn't need his urging to set my own hip-thrusting pace.
Steele let go of my breast with a gasping moan. "Oh, god. Should we go upstairs?"
I shook my head and leaned forward to kiss him. Steele buried his hands in my hair and devoured my lips. I melted under the hot strokes of his tongue, the warm blasts of his panting breaths.
Steele slipped one hand down my back to press down the center of my backside. He guided me with the lightest touch because I was so ready, so hot and willing.
"I'm not going to make it upstairs," I confessed against his moaning lips.
Steele shifted upward, nudging my slick entrance and I collapsed against his chest. He wrapped both arms around my back and pressed me slowly down over him. I gasped and circled my hips, slowly taking him all inside.
Then Steele pressed back against the Italian leather sofa and braced his feet hard against the floor. I felt him surge inside me and my body answered with a rocking rise and fall. It wasn't enough. Again. He was so deep I couldn't move; all I could do was take it, right there in the spot that had to have it. Harder.
We came together, wrapped so tightly on the sofa that even afterward we stayed tangled together. Steele shifted and stretched out with me nestled between his satiated body and the back of the sofa. There I waited until our heart rates dropped to a normal range, but by then Steele was already asleep.
Not wanting to wake him, or break the spell of pleasure that surrounded us, I drifted into sleep while still in his arms.
* * * * *
I knew as soon as my eyes snapped open that I had overslept. The fire had died out hours ago and sunlight crept along the edges of the heavy curtains. I shifted and felt my bare skin separate from the leather sofa. Steele sighed in his sleep and loosened his arm enough for me to sit up.
His tattoos shocked me again, coming into focus as I pulled my cheek from his solid shoulder.
The road was much clearer now, even in the dim light of early morning. The handle bars of a Harley Davidson rode directly over his heart. A five-pointed starburst radiated out and each ray became a separate twisting road. Some were littered with treasure, others with skulls, and one that showed every indulgence including one that reminded me of the night before.
My cheeks blazed but I couldn't move. I had no idea what I would say if he woke up and caught me staring, but I couldn't take my eyes off those tattoos. Why were they so familiar?
I traced one the roads, the thorny rose and broken bottle strewn route, and found a fading scar. Recovery must have been rushed otherwise my stitches would have held much better.
I froze. My stitches. Steele had been my patient all those months ago.
I often remembered random patients and the memories came on in a tumbling wave. Often I would hear them give me the clue I needed to help them. Sometimes I remembered in painful detail exactly what went wrong. It was part of my trained mind to recall entire scenarios.
Except all I remembered about Steele's trip to the ER was him.
His cut had been deep and his blood loss was worrisome. I had taken more risks than usual in my efforts to keep him conscious. I had so wanted to spend more time being seen by those deep brown eyes.
"Oh, god. I'm sorry! I was just leaving." I scrambled to the other end of the couch as Steele blinked up at me.
"It's all right," Steele said. "It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just a scar."
"I know. A knife fight," I said.
Steele sat up and slipped his boxers back into place. "How do you know?"
I yanked on my shirt before my bra and shimmied into my panties. Steele found my skirt first and held it tight even as I tried to pull it away from him.
"Claire, what do you do for a living?" he asked.
I glanced up and knew there was no escaping the truth. Even if it meant Steele would suspect I had been stalking him all along.
"I'm an ER doctor." I sat down on the sofa next to him.
"So you're probably wondering why someone like me has a stab wound," Steele said. He pulled on his jeans and reached for his undershirt.
I shrugged. What I really wanted to know was why he didn't remember me. With all the minute details I could suddenly recall, why didn't Steele even know it was me?
My heart clutched and it took a minute to shake off the hard feeling. Maybe I just wasn't one of those memorable women. It didn't matter. Steele had met me at the gala and pursued me anyway. I couldn't blame him for being too traumatized to remember much about that night.
"How about you tell me about your tattoos instead," I asked.
"I'm in a motorcycle club, but it's not what you think," Steele said. "It's really just a bunch of guys that like to ride whenever they can. We don't do much else besides share a beer or two at the same roadhouse."
I swallowed hard, not wanting Steele to see the bad taste his words put in my mouth. The only roadhouse I had ever been too was that shack where I faced down Reese's tormentor.
"Is that where you got stabbed?" I asked.
"It was really more of an accident," Steele said. Then his mouth snapped shut.
I fought the urge to jump up and put some distance between us. Steele's gaze suddenly scraped over me and I could feel his confusion.
"You're the doctor, the one that patched me up," he said.
I squared my shoulders. There was nothing else I could do but own it. "And it would have come out better, hardly a scar at all if you had followed my directions for rest and recovery."
I thought that was it, the moment that Steele would throw me out of his house and his life.
Instead, he chuckled. "Yup. You're scolding voice really brings it all back. I can't believe we've met before!"
"I can't believe you," I snapped. "I never lied to you. I didn't realize you were a former patient until just this morning."
"Yeah," Steele said. "We were a little distracted last night."
I swatted his knee and stood up. "So are you going to explain all of this?" I asked.
I swept my hand around his study, gesturing to at least two million dollars worth of antiques and that didn't include the immaculate furniture or original artwork. Steele rubbed both hands over his face and then down his chest, grinning at the juxtaposition of his tattooed body and his classical, expensive taste in interior decoration.
"I ride with the club as a way to clear my head," Steele said. "I make a lot of decisions every day that effects thousands of employees. The motorcycle club is the one place where I stand by myself and my decisions are my own."
I jerked my skirt into place. "And you want me to believe that all you and your motorcycle buddies do is drive around together? I stitched you up after a knife fight, remember?"
It wasn't fair. Steele didn't know anything about Reese or his trouble with some other motorcycle gang. Still, I couldn't easily accept Steele's two faces.
He stood up and looked around, sheepishly admitting that he did not fit his surroundings. Still, he didn't put on his undershirt or make any move to hide his tattoos again.
"My club does a lot of good. You'd be surprised how much easier it is to help people when you're just a strong back and nobody special," Steele said. "Any other time I want to do something good it takes eight board meetings and a sit-down with a lawyer."
I wanted to soften. I wanted to understand, but all I could think of was that nasty, drug-riddled man threatening my brother's life.
"Some people manage to do good without lying," I said. "No matter how much money they have."
"Oh?" Steele scowled. "You have a lot of money? You know how much trouble it can be each and every day?"
"Money?" My voice ratcheted up as I thought of the sky-high amount I owed Reese's tormentor. "I've got nothing but a mountain of student loans and a long, long time ahead of me in order to work it off. And that's not why I'm here and that's not why I accepted a date with you!"
Steele stood up and caught my hysterical hands. "I didn't say that. I didn't think that, Claire. I'm just not used to telling people about my other life."
A rush of sympathy rocked me forward into his arms. "I'm sorry. You're right. You're sharing your secret with me, and I'm worried about something completely different."
Steele squeezed me tighter. "Want to tell me about it? Can I help?"
I shook my head and bit my lip. The tattoo right in front of me was too familiar. It was the roadhouse where I'd taken Reese to confront the man he owed money. The sight threw my head and body into a tight war. How could I be so comfortable in Steele's arms? What if he was one of the gangs that would make me and my brother pay?
"Tell me more about your club," I said.
Steele stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. "It feels so good to talk about it. I never told anyone else the name of the club. Just you."
I looked up at him and pressed closer, not wanting to let go of hope. "Let me guess, the Road Hogs?" I joked.
Steele smiled and kissed my lips. "No, thank god. I ride with the Road Claws."
I took a long shaky breath and then forced myself to smile. "Never heard of them," I lied.